


Borrowed Time

by sadsohovibes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Soulbond, Assassination Attempt(s), Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Politics, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-12-27 07:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsohovibes/pseuds/sadsohovibes
Summary: He woke up on his side, dizzy, in pain, and with a second heartbeat beating under his ribs.





	Borrowed Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tentacledicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/gifts).

As they’d expected, the meeting was a disaster.

Anton wished he had half of Karlienne’s grace as Chancellor Rumlar of the Small Council passed on the Council’s decision, Albrecht’s and Marth’s heads nodding lazily to the rhythm of his speech: no funds, no additional men, no permission to investigate the Chrysalia lead, not here in the capital and definitely not beyond the border. “We cannot afford war,” the Chancellor said. “The Bureau must see this. Beside, your proof is inconclusive at best, sketchy at worst. Anti-Chrysalian sentiments at this court...” Anton had to stop paying attention at the risk of showing plainly on his face exactly what he thought of the Council’s reasoning. Gods, he hated politics. He risked a glance at his second-in-command: Karlienne listened with her spine straight, her chin tilted up, and her face blank as stone from the newly built western colonnade. Her heels snapped dutifully when the Chancellor was done and Anton turned his attention back to the man. 

“Lord Chancellor,” Karlienne said, “that was a very informative lesson on the international politics of the queendom. The Bureau, now informed of our past mistakes, will make sure to follow your instructions to the letter.” Not waiting to be dismissed, she turned and left.

Anton bowed his head. “Lord Chancellor,” he said.

Rumlar sighed. “One day your second-in-command will fail to toe this line she’s so fond on toeing. And you don’t have enough clout to save her then.”

“I don't understand. Aren’t we supposed to implement your suggestions?” Anton asked, fixing his eyes on the painting behind the man’s head.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Rumlar said.

“Lord Chancellor.”

*

He found Karlienne beyond the new colonnade, sitting on a large stone amidst the rubble not yet cleared for further construction. She was playing with her butterfly knife, opening and closing it in turns. When she saw him, she flashed him a quick, sharp grin. 

“Don’t...” he started, but the spell was already flying through the air, the silencing barrier building shining, shimmering layers that cut them off from the rest of the world. Karlienne’s barriers were legendary. “Still not a good place to talk.”

She shrugged. “Might as well get it over with. Especially since I need to talk Marsh before heading back to the office.”

“Didn’t you heard a word they said? We are to not investigate. Besides, Marsh hates your guts.”

A grin, again. Sharper than before. “Well, they didn’t _cut_ our funds. I need his permission to move them to the Mountain Troops budget. With winter coming, it’s a reasonable request.”

It was, but... “He won’t agree today! He’ll throw you out as soon as he — Wait. You want him to refuse.”

The knife in her hand again, catching light. “As I said, it’s a reasonable request. Only a small, dickish man would refuse it over disagreement that doesn’t even have anything to do with the Troops. And I’m sure the Grand Council will agree with me when they hear about it.”

Anton grit his teeth. “You’re toying with our men’s lives.”

“I’m not toying with anything,” she snapped. “I’m using their rules to beat them at their game. It’s a useful skill.” A moment of silence. Anton’s anger flowed and ebbed under his skin like a restless sea. He saw Karlienne’s point. He didn’t want to concede it. 

A few tense moments passed until she got up from the stone, and said, “How long have we known each other? How many mistakes have I made in that time?” 

It was the reasonable tone that made Anton see red. “One will be enough. People will pay with their lives.”

“Yes,” Karlienne said, turning away. “It comes with the job. I’m willing to pay the price. Are you?” And before he could respond — before he had a mind to think _how_ to respond — she added, “Look. Your admirer is coming up.”

Prince Rosta was carefully picking his way among the stones. His light suit was blinding in the afternoon sun.

“He’s not my admirer,” Anton hissed.

Karlienne had the gall to laugh. She made a quick, complicated gesture with her left hand and the silencing barrier crumbled. Sounds came back rushing back to them. The Prince halted half a dozen steps away, waving them off before they could stand to attention. “Casting spells on the royal grounds, colonel? I’m sure there’s a fine for that.”

Karlienne didn’t miss a beat. “Skipping your duties on the Small Council, Your Grace? Again? We missed your at the meeting today.”

The Prince laughed. “I heard it was going to be boring. And it was, wasn’t it. My sources never fail.”

Anton felt a headache coming up. 

Karlienne bowed her head. “And here I was just talking with the general about people always being right. Seems like you are well-equipped to take my spot in the discussion.” She took a few steps towards the palace but stopped behind the Prince with her back to them, but their head turned. Anton clearly saw the tightness in the corner of her mouth, the crowlines like broken veins around her eyes, deeper than usual. “Your Grace,” Karlienne said. “General.”

He could stop her now. It’s not like she’d disobey a direct order. But — He had no idea how to deal with the hurdles the Council had just flung at them. His mouth was moving before he was fully aware of it. “Colonel. See you at the office later.”

Karlienne acknowledged him with a tilt of her head and climbed back to the colonnade. Anton watched her leave, uncomfortably aware that the Prince was watching him.

“Well,” the Prince said when Karlienne disappeared in the shadows. “I’m sure whatever disagreement you had, you’ll sort it out in no time.”

Anton forced a laugh out of his tightened throat.

“There was no disagreement, Your Grace.” At least none that the Queen’s younger brother would have to hear about. “The colonel and I were discussing the matter in more… philosophical terms.”

The Prince laughed. “You know, general, I studied philosophy at the university. A colossal waste of time. But I could brush off my lingo if you enjoy discussing philosophy in your pastime.”

Talking to him was exhausting, in some ways more so than talking to the rest of the Council combined. Anton bowed deeply enough he hoped it conveyed how utterly _done_ he was with this conversation. “This is a very generous offer, Your Grace, but I wouldn’t presume to impose on your time." He allowed himself one look straight into the Prince's eyes before shifting his gaze behind his head. "I am well aware of how precious a resource it is."

The corners of the Prince's mouth lifted. "I'm sure you are. Well, I didn't actually come to pester you about your chosen conversation topics. Are you going back to your office right now? I'd like to offer you a ride."

"That's… unnecessary, Your Grace," Anton said weakly.

"Almost everything can be seen as unnecessary if you look at it from a certain perspective. Please allow me."

*

They took a shortcut through the royal wing to get to the stables. Anton was familiar with the place — as the head of the Royal Bureau of the Territorial Defense he had had quite a few private audiences with the Queen since his term had started. He had hated it then and he hated it now, brightly lit with crystal candelabra, so white you just knew the servants spent whole nights polishing the floors. Even the guards on duty, stationed in front of every door, looked crisp and shiny in their white uniforms.

The Prince fit here so well he almost blended into the background.

Suddenly anger went off under Anton’s skin like a grenade, much like with Karlienne earlier, just stronger, more vicious, worse.

They’d turned into a long hall with a door at the end leading to the part of the palace open for the public. The guards’ patrol was approaching them from the other side. When we are out of their earshot, Anton thought, I’ll politely say I just remembered I have one more appointment, one more errand to run. 

Refusing the Prince could be a tricky matter and Anton didn’t have Karlienne’s talent to navigate the murky waters of politics, but he just couldn’t imagine — He didn’t know what alerted him in the posture of the guard; he didn’t know them all that well. What was even more surprising, the Prince tensed beside him. They moved almost at the same moment, Anton quicker by half of a heartbeat, ducking to dodge a throwing knife. He aimed with his elbow for the guard’s throat, but got blocked. Anton twisted and spun away from the man; a quick glance to the left confirmed that the Prince had already disposed of the second guard. He had a long knife in his hand with a bloodied blade. Their eyes met for a second and the Prince opened his mouth but — The shifting air behind him told Anton to expect a blow. He twisted again, in the other direction, awfully regretting not having any kind of weapon, awfully regretting — a lot of things.

He wasn’t quick enough.

*

He woke up on his side, dizzy, in pain, and with a second heartbeat beating under his ribs. With another set of thoughts poking around the edges of his consciousness. With a warm, lithe body plastered to his back. Arms winding around his chest tightened as soon as Anton opened his eyes. “Don’t panic,” Prince Rosta murmured right into his ear. “Here, just let me...” But Anton, bewildered, was already disentangling himself from him, twisting away, trying to put some distance between them. As soon as their bodies stopped touching, a sharp pain flared through him from head to toe. He passed out again.

*

The next time he came to, he came to Karlienne’s face a few feet from his. She was crouching beside the bed. “Stay put,” she said, her tone harsher than it had ever been with him. “I’m not a healer, I can’t keep putting you back together.”

But she held out a glass of water to him. Anton, throat like sandpaper, tried to sit up but before he could push himself up, strong arms propelled him up and steadied him in a more upright position. The Prince… was still plastered to his back. Anton looked at Karlienne. “I know,” she said. “You’re shit out of luck.” 

“What happened?” Anton rasped out.

“You got dosed with Vrupan,” Karlienne said.

“And you have a hole in your stomach,” the Prince added.

“A cut,” Karlienne corrected. “Not very deep. Let’s not exaggerate. Drink now.”

Anton drank, head spinning, fear tightening his throat.

“Wait,” he said. “Vrupan? The interrogation drug?”

Karlienne’s eyes shifted and Anton got a feeling she was having a silent conversation with the Prince behind his back. Finally, she sighed.

“Yeah. The interrogation drug. It creates a connection between the interrogator and the interrogatee. Rosta took the other dose to spare you ending up bonded to the other assassin.”

Anton closed his eyes. “Did he escape?"

Two snorts. “No,” the Prince replied.

“But since someone here didn’t manage to kill him before you were dosed, said someone made the correct decision to bond you to himself rather than to an unknown assailant.”

“But if he’s dead...”

“We… don’t really know what happens, if the interrogator dies while bonded with someone,” Karlienne said gently. “Maybe the bond gets broken. Maybe the bonded person goes mad. It wasn't worth the risk.”

Anton rubbed at his temples. “But Vrupan is magic, right? Can’t you just...”

“Lift it? It’s magic, but it’s not a spell. I can’t lift is like a barrier or a curse.”

“So… what? Are we stuck like that?”

“No!” Karlienne said vehemently. “There are antidotes, remedies. I will find a way to get rid of this bond.” She yawned. “Probably not today, though.” She got up. “You should try to get some sleep, too.”

*

In the dark, the Prince’s presence by his side seemed both realer and more impossible. He was nicely warm, even when he stank of sweat and blood. Anton didn’t mind as much as he’d thought he would have. He’d spent most of his life in garrisons and war, touching people out of the forced proximity in close quarters, not out of want.

He didn't want to be touching the Prince now, but it was a different situation.

“I’m sorry,” the Prince finally said.

“You really have no reason. Without you I would’ve been dead.”

“Without me you wouldn’t be here at all.”

“Well. At least we stopped a royal assassination on the way here. Unless the had some other goal?"

The Prince laughed. “Not that I know of. And my sister is most grateful.” His thumb was drawing circles onto the skin of Anton’s hand, but it didn't last and the Prince sobered up. “But you paid the highest price for that.”

“I? From what I have gathered, we are bonded to each other. Your Grace,” he added after a slightly too long pause.

“Please. I think it’s high time you started calling me by my name.”

“Rosta, then. It doesn’t change my objection.”

“Doesn’t it? You must’ve guessed how I felt about you.”

Anton felt the corners of his mouth lift. “Maybe I did. But... I didn’t want to believe.” 

Rosta laughed quietly. “Well, now you may believe to your heart’s content.”

It wouldn't last forever. Karlienne was nothing if not resourceful when she set her mind to something, so if she claimed that an antidote or remedy would be found, it would be. Rosta kissed him in the meantime, his hands fluttering over Anton's bandaged stomach as if he was trying to take away the hurt and pour it all into himself. Anton kissed him harder then because he couldn't stand by it — a hurt was only lighter when shared.

And if the bond, making their heart beat in the same rhythm right now, got cut one day, it was one thing. The two of them, kissing still, more eager that Anton had been since his teenage days more than thirty years ago, were another. The bond could end; they didn't have to.

The thought made Anton smile into their kiss.


End file.
